The sound of the front door closing pulls me out of sleep. I drag one hand over my eyes groggily before opening them, blinking slowly in order to adjust to the dim light that floods the living room. In the distance I could hear footsteps sounding though the house, light and even paced, creating the perfect rhythm on the hallway floor. I pull my eyes to the window, heavy and half closed, and see that the sun had long began to set as my eyes meet a beautiful orange sky, concluding that it must be evening, meaning that Warner had just arrived home.
"Aaron, is that you?" I call out, resting my head back against the arm of the couch I was sleeping on, letting my eyes fall closed again as my body reminds me why I was asleep in the first place. The squeezing ache in my head and neck has returned at full force, accompanied by a wave of nausea that rolls through my stomach so fast I almost throw up right there and then.
"Yes, love," he answers, the volume of his voice indicating that he must be stood in the doorway. I hear his footsteps echo through the room before they are silenced by the plush rug under the couch. I feel him standing in front of me before I see him.
"I heard that you had come home from work because you were feeling unwell. Are you okay?" Warner says, his voice full of concern. He kneels down beside me, plucking the pillow I was clutching to my stomach out of my grip before resting his hand there instead.
"No," I groan, opening my eyes just enough to squint at him. "I've had the headache from hell. And I've been throwing up more than usual," I explain. A look of sympathy creases Warner's brow before he continues to smooth his hand over my slightly rounded stomach, staring down at it adoringly. He's been doing this a lot lately, ever since the faintest trace of a bump was evident.
"Oh sweetheart," he mutters, pressing a gentle kiss to my aching temple. "Are you feeling nauseous right now?" he asks.
"Yeah," I grumble in response, letting out a slow breath. In terms of morning sickness I'd actually been fairly lucky. The nausea was normally mild and came and went throughout the day, although there were some days where it had been stronger than usual, and today had so far been the worst.
"Would you like me to get you some ginger ale?" offers Warner, his voice soft beside my ear.
"Yes please," I sigh, feeling a slow smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. The twins had recommended ginger to help ease my nausea and so far it had worked almost every time, and I couldn't wait for some kind of relief. Warner stands up and wonders off into the kitchen, and I listen to the sound of his footsteps as he moves. With my eyes closed I can hear everything so much clearer, the clock ticking in the corner of the room, the gentle sounds of the world outside. I find it rather relaxing, it gives me something to focus on other than my head. Warner's footsteps sound again as he enters the room. I open my eyes and sit myself up slightly so he can sit down. He plants himself beside me in the middle of the couch, my glass of ginger ale resting against his thigh.
"So how long have you been here?" he wonders, extending the glass towards me.
"About three hours." I guess, taking the glass of ginger ale and sipping from it slowly. "I tried to ignore it this morning but it just kept getting worse, so I came home and took a nap." I explain, lifting my legs and draping them over his lap. He shuffles closer so my thighs rest against his, wrapping one arm over my legs to rest against my hip, his thumb brushing my stomach lightly.
"Has it helped?" he asks softly.
"A little," I reply meekly, taking another sip of my drink as I try to calm the uncomfortable lurching of my insides. "Ugh, it hasn't been this bad in weeks," I groan.
"Hopefully it won't last much longer," Warner soothes, rubbing my stomach in a comforting gesture.
"Yeah, this is all supposed to stop around fourteen weeks, right?" I add, my lips twitching into a hopeful smile. His hand stills on my stomach, resting directly on my bump's peak. He flashes me a smile in return before a thoughtful look knots his eyebrows together.
"I'm sorry I woke you," he whispers. I smile and gently shake my head.
"It's fine," I answer. A few moments of silence pass before Warner shifts. He removes his hand from my stomach, sitting upright in the middle of the couch.
"I'm going to cook myself some dinner soon, would you like some?" he announces, watching my face in anticipation of an answer. I don't even have to think about eating before my stomach churns. The smile I was wearing disappears instantly, replaced by the wrinkling of my nose.
"No thanks, I don't think I'd be able to keep it down," I explain, grimacing as I remember how quickly my lunch had come back up earlier. "I'll get something later but for now I think I'm just going to go to bed." I offer weakly, taking another sip of ginger ale before putting the glass down on the small table next to the arm of the couch. Warner sighs.
"Love, you need to eat something," he insists, his voice laced with concern. Pain shoots through my temples.
"I know, I just don't think I can manage it right now," I sigh, tossing my head back against the arm of the couch and closing my eyes. "I'll get something later, I promise."
I feel Warner shift, hoisting the rest of his body onto the couch until he's laying down beside me. He places his head on my stomach and his arm hugs my waist as he lifts up the front of my shirt. I open my eyes to look at him.
"Hey you," he mumbles playfully against my growing abdomen. "We need you to get your nutrients so you can keep growing healthily, so you've got to stop making your mom sick, okay," he finishes by dropping a kiss to the skin beneath his cheek. I can't stop my smile, it's completely taken over my face and I have no say in the matter. Watching him talk to the bundle of nerves in my stomach completely melts my heart. He presses another kiss to my stomach and right now I don't care how awful I feel because I don't think I've ever felt this happy in my entire life.
"Well until this one starts taking your advice I'm going to bed," I joke, feeling in a much better mood. I gently push Warner's head, indicating for him to move so I can get up and make my way to bed and he reluctantly complies, clinging to every extra second he had pressing his face against our child. I laugh at the hurt look in his eyes, like he can't bear to be separated from the bump, as I sit up. I turn to get off the couch but suddenly everything blurs. My head pounds, I close my eyes to keep from falling over.
"Are you okay, love?" I hear Warner's voice in my ear as I grip the couch to steady myself. His arm is wrapped around my shoulders, anchoring me against him.
"Just a little dizzy. I'm fine," I assure him, although my voice was weak and groggy.
"Let me carry you to bed," he suggests, his voice soft and tender.
"No, I'll be-" I counter, trying to fan him away so I can stand up by myself. Over the past few weeks I had grown used to the elevated amount of fussing, but I was insistent on getting to bed without assistance.
"Please," he insists. I turn to look at him, captivated by the caring look in his eyes. His smile pleading with me to let him help me. With a heavy sigh I finally concede.
"Okay fine," I mutter in response, and with that he scoops me into his lap before standing, carrying me through the house until we reach our bedroom. I close my eyes, nestling my head against his shoulder as he carries me, letting him know that I'm grateful for his help. When we arrive at our room Warner peels back the covers before gently depositing me in bed and tucking them over me. I settle comfortably against the pillows and relax.
"I hope you feel better," he murmurs softly.
"Me too," I groan. He sits down on the edge of the bed beside me, bending down to plant a long, soft kiss against my forehead.
"I love you both so much," he whispers against my skin before standing and exiting the room. With a contented sigh I then turn over onto my side, burying myself in the surrounding warmth of the covers as I finally relax into a peaceful sleep.